


today for you, tomorrow for me

by carefulren



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Newt works in the college clinic and Thomas plays hockey, Sick Character, Sick Newt, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: the one where Newt goes to work at the clinic despite feeling sick himself, and Thomas ends up helping him despite an injured wrist





	1. Chapter 1

Flu season equals business for the campus clinic; student workers should be ecstatic with the extra hours, but this year’s strain has taken so many workers down, leaving Newt working extra shifts despite not feeling so well himself. He thought he was fine, that he could avoid what’s taken so many down, but after three days of downing ibuprofen and vitamin c, he’s not getting any better, only worse, as to be expected now that he’s confident his body succumbed to the virus that has the whole campus in turmoil. 

He should stay in his dorm– quarantine himself and rest– but there’s no coverage, and the clinic workers are clearly overwhelmed. So, he comes in despite shivering under multiple layers and stifling coughs into the crook of his arm what feels like every five seconds. It’s a good thing, too, he thinks, for the clinic is packed with students who all look as miserable as he feels. He hears the familiar ding of the door opening right before he pushes through a door that leads to exam rooms, and he spares a glance over his shoulder to see hockey prodigy Thomas walking in with a frown. Just another one, he thinks as he shakes his head with a cough and walks through the door to get a read on room availability.

*****

Thomas keeps his wrist pressed to his chest as he slides around students to get to the check-in desk. Aris’s eyebrows practically soar to the ceiling when Thomas steps up, and Thomas waves the look away with his good hand before he snags a pen to sign the sheet before him. 

“It’s fine,” he mutters. 

“The season is seriously going to suck if you are benched.” Aris says, eyes glued to Thomas’s swollen wrist. 

“I won’t be benched,” Thomas spits out with a sigh. “Believe me. I am not going to let Gally lead the team this year.” 

“But that looks bad–” 

“It’s not,” Thomas argues as he sets the pen down a little too loudly on the counter. “Sorry.” He mutters, and Aris only offers a nod before Thomas turns to occupy a corner as far away from all the coughing students as he can. The last thing he needs is to get sick on top of this damn wrist. 

He sighs, pressing himself against the wall and pulling his phone out with his good hand. He starts to scan through messages from teammates and his coach before he ventures onto Snapchat and watches stories from practice until his name is called by a rough voice an hour later. 

Thomas looks up, almost dazed, to see the room a lot emptier than before, and he drags his gaze to see Newt looking at him expectantly. Thomas remembers Newt– the two were bio partners three semesters ago, and a good thing, too, because biology isn’t Thomas’s strong suit whereas academics seem to come naturally to Newt. 

“Are you coming?” Newt asks, brows arched, and Thomas nods, following after Newt into an empty exam room. 

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” 

Newt shuts the door behind him, and Thomas frowns at it for a moment because Newt’s voice sounded wrecked. He allows his gaze to linger before he ventures over to the small cot that’s pushed against the wall. He leans against it and pulls his wrist to his eyes. It definitely hurts, and it’s three times bigger than its normal size. He prods oat it with one finger, hissing sharply at the pain that seems to jolt all the way to his elbow. 

“Shit,” he mutters just as the door opens and Newt walks in with a clipboard in hand. 

Thomas can see Newt’s hands shaking, and he frowns, nodding toward Newt as Newt comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the room. “You okay?” 

Newt nods, but his face fades to a frightening pale shade, and Thomas is racing toward him just as his eyes roll back and his body slumps forward. Thomas wraps both hands around Newt, and the movement brings a hot spike of pain that has him wincing as he slowly guides Newt to the floor. Against his chest, Newt is burning, yet he’s shaking like mad, and his face is pulled into a clear look of discomfort that has Thomas shouting for help. 

Clinic doctors rush in and pull Newt from Thomas’s arms, but they fall into a flurry of panic when one gets a read on the 104.4 degree fever Newt’s sporting. There’s a lot of shouting at one another on what to do because no one wants to leave the clinic, so Thomas gets to his feet and manages to lift Newt into his arms, snaking one arm behind his knees and the other around his back. 

“I’ll take him,” he shouts, catching everyone’s attention. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.” He adds when they all look to him with mixed looks of concern. His wrist is throbbing, but Newt is on fire in his arms and has yet to wake up, even with all the sound, so he swallows back the pain and starts toward the door, with the doctors helping him get Newt settled in the back of his truck. 

*****

Newt comes to by a persistent beeping accompanied with an uncomfortable pinch against his arm. He wants to go back to sleep, but the beeping won’t stop, and even shifting his arm brings a wave of discomfort that has him prying heavy eyes open. It doesn’t take long for his mind to supply that he’s in a hospital, but the details of how he got there are nonexistent within his hazy mind, and he cannot even begin to fathom why Thomas, of all people, is occupying a chair by his bed. 

“Thomas,” he croaks out, and Thomas looks up from his phone with a quick look that’s paired with a wide smile. 

“Hey,” Thomas says, dragging out the word. “Good to see you aren’t dead.” 

“How?” Newt mutters before coughing harshly. 

Thomas offers Newt a sip of water before he gives an explanation. “You passed out at the clinic, and all the doctors over there freaked the hell out because you were running a crazy high fever, so I brought you here.” 

“Bloody doctors,” Newt mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes. “You…” He stops, eyes darting to Thomas’s bandaged hand. “Your wrist?” 

“Ah,” Thomas lifts his hand, voice going soft. “I’ll be out for, at least, three games.” His eyes drop to the floor, and Newt frowns. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s cool,” Thomas mutters, sagging back against the chair. “Vince said I could coach from the sidelines, so I’ll get to boss Gally around at least.” 

Newt breathes out a quiet laugh before he nods toward the door weakly. “You don’t have to stay.” 

“Someone’s gotta take you back to campus.” 

“I can call–” 

“I don’t mind,” Thomas interrupts. “It’s not like I have anything else to do,” he adds as he waves his bandaged wrist around. “What were you doing working while so sick anyway?” He slips in, deflecting from the notion of him leaving. 

“We were short-staffed,” Newt mutters, and Thomas huffs out a laugh. 

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” 

At this, Newt’s brows pull together, and the tilts his head slightly, enough of a question for Thomas to offer an explanation. 

“Alby told me you tried to keep running track after you hurt your leg– said you secured the permanent damage by doing that.” 

Newt shakes his head with a huff. “Why are you talking about me with Alby?” 

Thomas can feel his cheeks heating at the question, so he clears his throat and brings his phone back to his eyes to try and hide behind the screen. “Whatever,” he mutters. “Go back to sleep, so we can get you out of here.” 

Newt’s tired eyes linger on Thomas for a moment too long before he drags a drooping gaze toward the ceiling. He almost doesn’t want to go back to sleep, not with Thomas here– he would rather stay up with the brunet– but his fever is pulling him back under, and he drifts off to the soft sounds of Thomas humming along with a video on his phone. 


	2. Chapter 2

Newt follows Aris to a bench close to the glass. He crosses his arms to ward off the chill of the rink as he slips onto the bench beside Aris, who’s leaning forward and eyeing two players off to the side. 

“It’s bloody freezing in here,” Newt mutters, shivering as he follows Aris’s gaze to see Gally and Thomas arguing. 

“It’s hockey,” Aris replies flatly with a frown. “It’s going to be cold.” 

Scoffing, Newt pulls a studied gaze to the two practically screaming at each other on the ice, and his lips curl into a frown when Vince skates toward the two.

“What do you think they are fighting about?” Newt questions, watching as Gally’s arms flail about while Thomas shrinks away from Vince’s stern stare. 

“Probably if Thomas is fit to play,” Aris says as he rakes his fingers through his hair. 

“His wrist is fine,” Newt tries, brows pulling together in a prominent show of confusion. “The doctor cleared him–”

“It’s not his wrist,” Aris says. He straightens his back and drags a slow, worried gaze toward Newt. “He’s been running a fever all day.” 

Newt snaps a gaze back to the ice in time to see Vince pressing a hand to Thomas’s forehead, but Thomas swats the hand away and glides past Vince to the center of the ice where his team is gathered, shoving his helmet on with a huff along the way. 

“He’s sick?” Newt’s voice is sharp, yet there’s an overbearing press of concern laced over it, and he can’t pull his eyes away from Thomas. 

“Yeah,” Aris grumbles with a sigh. “He’s been getting worse all week, but it’s his first game back in three weeks. He’s going to play no matter what.” 

“It’s dangerous–” 

“It’s Thomas,” Aris counters, and Newt can’t argue much beyond that. 

Instead, he hunches forward, dropping his elbows atop his knees as the game starts. As the minutes pass, there’s a lot of screaming from all around the rink– a lot of classmates are yelling that Thomas isn’t on top of his game. Newt can hear the couple behind him whispering that Thomas isn’t fit to be back– that his wrist is probably still injured– and Newt wants to protest, but there’s suddenly a particularly large opposing team member charging toward Thomas. 

Newt sucks in a gasp, and for a moment all sounds fade to a dull ringing, but then Thomas drops to the ice, right before the opposing player rams him, and as a result, the player trips over his body and slams into the glass barrier just as all sounds come back to Newt like a brick to the face. 

There are foul cries of “dirty move!” and “where are the refs!?” But, Thomas doesn’t get back up, even when an opposing player extends a hand to help, Thomas stays down, and Newt’s heart lurches to his throat as he springs to his feet just as Vince calls for a timeout. 

Minho’s got his helmet off, and he’s racing toward Thomas with Vince hot on his heels, and Newt just barely catches sight of Gally slamming a gloved fist to the glass with a loud curse. Loud, stuttered chaos follows. There’s shouting, medics, refs breaking up a fight, and then Thomas is being escorted off the ice with Vince and Minho, and Newt follows after them, keeping his eyes glued to Thomas’s slumped form until he goes out of sight. 

“Newt?” Aris calls out, and Newt waves one hand as he starts toward the closest exit. 

“I’m going to check on him,” he offers, and then he disappears through the exit. He looks down the long hall way and hears a door click shut, and he starts toward it, brows creased together as he gnaws lightly out his lower lips. He stops before the door, and he can just make out faint, angered voices before he carefully opens it and slips in. 

“Well, someone’s gotta take you home, Thomas,” Vince is saying, and Newt clears his throat, indicating his presence to the three. 

“I can,” he offers with a small smile. “I kind of owe him one anyway.” 

Vince considers this for a moment that feels like hours to Newt, but finally, he nods before patting Minho on the shoulder. 

“Get back out there.” 

Minho stops beside Newt and mutters a soft “thanks” before he slips out of the room, sparing one, worried glance toward Thomas before the door shuts, and Vince follows after him. 

“He’s not allowed back here until he’s one-hundred percent,” Vince tells Newt before he slams the door closed behind him, leaving Newt watching as Thomas drops his face in his hands. 

“He seems pissed,” Newt mutters awkwardly, and Thomas breathes out a long sigh that’s followed by a few rough coughs. 

“I really fucked up,” Thomas groans out, raising his head, and Newt gasps at how poorly Thomas looks with his burning red cheeks and pale, sunken skin. 

“You kind of did,” Newt starts as he crosses the room to take a seat beside Thomas on the bench. “What happened out there?” 

Thomas shakes his head. “I don’t know; I think I blacked out for a few seconds.” 

Newt moves a palm to Thomas’s forehead, hissing at the heat that bursts across his hand. “You’re bloody boiling!” He scolds, pulling his hand back with a deep frown. “You shouldn’t have even tried to play– you could have landed yourself in the hospital.” 

“I’ve been benched for three weeks–” 

“And, you could have been benched for a lot more if you got hurt tonight,” Newt fires back, but his heated tone slips away with a sigh when Thomas coughs miserably into his fist. 

“Come on, Tommy,” Newt says gently, slowly pulling Thomas to his feet. 

Thomas sways dangerously, and Newt is quick to wrap an arm around Thomas’s shoulders, steadying the brunet with worried eyes. 

“Let’s get you better, so you can play again.” 

Thomas only hums weakly in agreement,, and Newt leads him out of the room. He spots Vince watching them as they exit the stadium, and he offers one, slight nod toward the man, who turns away, seemingly satisfied, as he guides Thomas to his car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming in with part 2 10 years later, lol, sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tumblr prompt fill, and it does have a part 2 where Newt returns the favor. 
> 
> (I needed to write them after I watched... it which shall not be named...)


End file.
